What I Desire Most
by doubleox515
Summary: "He was running - faster than ever before. The smell of death was overwhelming and the fresh tears of mourning continued to course down his cheeks... he noticed another object: a large towering mirror with a golden frame and clawed feet..." Based on HetaOni. EDIT: This is now my official ending of HetaOni. Rated M for Romano's colourful language and mild violence.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hello people! I am submitting stuff again! YAY! **

**So, this is a Harry Potter and Hetalia/HetaOni crossover. For those of you who haven't the faintest idea of what HetaOni is, it is a fan-based RPG game which is based off the Japanese horror game Aooni. It is highly emotional and it involves the Big 9 of Hetalia, (Italy, Germany, Japan, Russia, England, France, China, America and Canada) plus a guest appearance from Prussia, Romano and Spain. Now, I am fresh of watching it on Youtube and am still highly distressed; thus this was born. **

**So, have fun reading and if you want to watch HetaOni, just type in the search bar on Youtube: "hetaoni english sub" and it should be the first one to come up. **

**ENJOY.**

**Disclaimer: Hetalia, Harry Potter and HetaOni are NOT mine. If they were, many things would not have happened. End of story.**

* * *

He was running - faster than ever before. The smell of death was overwhelming and the fresh tears of mourning continued to course down his cheeks. _I have failed again. I was sure I had not made any mistakes this time. Oh where is it? WHERE IS IT? _

A thunderous growl came from behind him and, spinning around, saw the Thing getting closer. _I'm running out of time. Oh where could it be? I was sure it was around here somewhere. Oh God, where is it? _

Stumbling into the closest room and locking the door firmly, Italy slid down and curled up, sobbing uncontrollably into his knees. He couldn't stop: he had seen far too many deaths, far too many times. First it was Japan; then it was France, China and Russia; then Canada, England and America; and then Prussia and...

'Oh Germany, everyone' he wailed, his slight figure shaking in grief. 'I'm sorry. I have failed again - and again - and again!'

Lifting his head, his breathing shaky, Italy took a quick glace of his surroundings and gasped as his eyes fell on an object sitting in a darkened part of the space. He began to laugh in relief.

'Oh, thank goodness! I found it!' he yelled, getting to his feet. He was staring at a handsome grandfather clock that was situated in a corner of the dimly lit room. The fine hands on its face were silver and the numbers were shimmering in a substance that would have made England shiver in delight. Italy reached out a hand, about to pull back the glass in front of the mechanics when a pounding on the other side of the door made him pause.

'Oh no,' he sighed dejectedly. 'It found me. Now, turn it back Italy. You can still save them! It's not too late!'

But before he could do so, he noticed another object: a large towering mirror with a golden frame and clawed feet. _That was never there in the previous time loops, _Italy thought as walked towards it and stood in front of it. The words _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi _were carved into the border. Confused, he looked at his reflection and nearly screamed in shock. He whirled around, not daring to believe his eyes and saw nothing but the empty space behind him.

Turning slowly back, a new wave of tears fell out of the corners of his eyes. In the centre of the reflection was he, battered, bruised; his clothes bloody and torn; his hair matted and knotted; the journal clutched in his scratched hands. And standing behind him, his gloved hands on Italy's shoulders with a rare smile on his face was -

'Germany.'

Looking closer, he saw that all of his friends were there, all smiling, all with happy expressions on their faces. Italy's heart began to hammer and ache, and he felt the corners of his mouth begin to twitch and before he knew it, his usual smile was back in place. He felt for the first in an age happy, content.

'Germany, what are you doing in the mirror, silly?' he asked, searching his friend's face. 'You need me to break the mirror so you can all get out, yeah?'

Germany, however, did not reply. Instead, he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder and Italy saw in the background the mansion that they had all entered. Italy suddenly realised that all his friends looked like he did: like they had been through a long and tiring battle.

'Oh, I get it now!' he declared. 'No - I don't get it. We all escaped, yeah? So... this is a portal - thing? I don't understand, Germany. What is it that you want me do to? _Why are you in the mirror? _WHAT DO I NEED TO DO TO SAVE YOU ALL?'

He wanted to stay there forever, staring at his friend's faces. Italy had never felt more alone. He wanted to help them; he wanted to save them; he wanted to escape from this treacherous house and go home with all of them. But there was nothing he could do because they were all dead. He had seen them die himself, had held their hands as they passed and he was sick of it.

Suddenly, the door behind him smashed into pieces and the room seemed to shrink in size. The Thing, horrifying than ever, its eyes dark and cold, was standing in the doorway. Italy was frozen on the spot. His palms were against the smooth glass of the mirror, the journal on the floor, having been dropped in the spur of the moment.

In his mind's eye, he could still see their faces: Germany, Japan, Prussia, Russia, France, Canada, England, America and China, all smiling, all finally out of the mansion, all with a bright and shining future ahead of them.

Italy then understood. He knew what he needed to do, what he _wanted _to do more than anything. The mirror had shown him the light.

'Hey you - monster!' he yelled, picking the journal up from the ground and edging towards the clock. 'You have put me in this situation once more. You have murdered my friends over and over again. Well, I have news for you!'

With that, Italy threw back the glass of the clock face and seized the hands, moving them in the opposite direction then when they ticked.

'I am going back and this time,' he said, turning back to the creature with a determined look on his face. 'I am taking them home.'

The monster roared and the room started to dissolve. _I will not fail. I will not fail. I will NOT FAIL. I am going to save you all... I am taking you home!_

**oOo**

_"A deserted house in a mountain, about three hours on foot from the world summit place,_

_No one knows how long it as been there or who used to live in it._

_Rumours had it that it was haunted"_

_Never enter the mansion._

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**A/N: THE END. To be honest, I have no idea where this came from. I really don't like the ending but I didn't know how else to end it. Oh, by the way, the Thing (if you didn't already know) is Steve. That is what the Youtube/Deviantart community decided to call him. **

**Review? Remember, reviews are love! :D**

**EDIT: No longer the end. Press the NEXT button and you'll find out why :)**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello everyone. So, I have decided that this story is now my official ending of HetaOni because I think we can all agree that the current one is unsatisfying and extremely mean. So yeah.**

**ENJOY and tell me what you think (and whether or not to continue it :D)**

**Disclaimer: Hetalia, Harry Potter and HetaOni are NOT mine. If they were, many things would not have happened. End of story.**

* * *

_"A deserted house in a mountain, about three hours on foot from the world summit place,_

_No one knows how long it has been there or who used to live in it._

_Rumours had it that it was haunted"_

_..._

_"You cannot easily set foot into that 'mysterious mansion' in your town._

_Because if you anger its former occupant, you will not get away lightly..._

_Especially when there is no one there..."_

_ ..._

_Never enter the mansion._

**oOo**

_Several time loops later..._

Darkness. All he could see was darkness – and he hated it.

The sounds of the others sleeping and breathing was the only thing that kept him calm. He tried to reach out into the unknown, to sense if something unwelcome was lurking about but he received nothing. _Thank God._

Sitting up in his bed, he ran his hands over his face and then put them in front of his eyes. He still only saw darkness: no outline; no shape; not even blurriness around the edges. He sighed in defeat then gave a grim chuckle as he remembered America's question from before.

_'H-How many... fingers am I holding up?'_

Frustrated, he vented out his anger on his leg and immediately regretted it. All of his other senses seemed to be much sharper now that he had lost one; even his sixth sense was teeming with response but nothing that screamed "danger". His leg was throbbing dully where he had hit it.

Suddenly, he heard whimpering from the bed to his right. Confused, he strained his hearing to hear what was wrong.

'No... please... don't... ugh...' was all he heard. The voice sounded familiar; the worry and sadness embedded in it made his heart break, though he couldn't figure out why.

'England... stupid... bastard... why didn't you... tell me... um... n-no!'

The voice was sounding desperate and scared. He wanted to get up and comfort the person, to chase the nightmare away.

'Oh God... no... _no_... please... NO!'

He jumped about a foot into the air as the person let out a blood curdling scream. Then, there was chaos around him.

'Argh! What is happening, aru?'

'Is everyone alright?'

'Who screamed?'

'America! What's wrong?'

'England, is... everything okay?'

Arthur merely nodded. _Wonderful, _he thought bitterly to himself as the rest of the nations around him proceeded noisily. _So much for getting a good night's rest. Who is that loon?_

A great heaving sob made him pause; so did the rest of his company. Then there was a rustling sound and Arthur felt a pair of arms wrap themselves at his neck but the sudden impact made him fall backwards onto the bed.

'C-Careful!' he heard Matthew say and then he felt the weight on his chest lessen. He slowly sat up and the person continued to cry, hugging Arthur tightly as if he were a lifeline. Arthur suddenly realised who it was.

'America.'

Alfred was wailing now, refusing to let go of Arthur, no matter what the other countries did or said. His grip didn't falter even when Ivan threatened to lift him up and throw back onto his own bed. There was so much noise that Arthur's head was exploding.

'Enough!' Arthur bellowed and the rest stopped talking at once. 'Just leave him be.'

Silence fell upon the space, except for the occasional sniff from Alfred. Arthur could feel him shaking violently in his arms and his breathing was coming out in short gasps.

'Could you guys give us a moment?' he asked, embracing Alfred's trembling figure. 'Please?'

There was a pause, then –

'Oui – of course we can,' Arthur heard Francis say and then the retreating footfalls of his fellow countries announced their departure.

Arthur didn't know what to do: he hadn't held Alfred like this since he was a child. He had sworn to distance himself away from Alfred after what happened during the Revolutionary War that it had hurt. But now... how could he ignore the poor boy now?

Raising a hand to Alfred's head, Arthur's fingers stroked the younger nation's hair soothingly. Alfred tensed slightly but then relaxed into the touch, nuzzling into Arthur's neck.

'I-I'm sorry,' he managed to choke out before beginning to cry again. Arthur stopped his movements, confused.

'What the bloody hell are you talking about?'

A sniff, an intake of breath and then, 'It's all my fault, isn't it? All this – my fault.'

Arthur felt shocked beyond belief that he didn't know what to say. _He thinks that me being blind, Spain and Romano being stuck in the past and Italy being dead is... his fault? _

'What do you mean, you silly thing?' he scolded lightly, wrapping his arms more tightly around Alfred. 'None of this is your fault. If anything, it's mine. I shouldn't have been such a big-headed git.'

He heard Alfred snort in disgust.

'I should have tried to stop you – I should have explained myself – I should have been a better hero.'

Alfred broke into a fresh wave of tears. Arthur could do nothing but make consoling shushing noises while rocking backwards and forwards. _Bloody hell, I haven't done this in years, _he thought.

A memory came vividly into his mind's eye: a young Alfred having just awoken from a nightmare. His innocent blue eyes were glistening with unshed tears as he sat in Arthur's lap, telling him about the monster in his nightmare. Arthur had listened and comforted the young child, then had stayed with him until he had fallen asleep once more. _It's like he is a young boy again._

'Alfred, listen to me,' Arthur began, pulling away and grabbing Alfred's shoulders. He couldn't see him but he could sense where he was. He tilted his head in the direction of Alfred's face and gave him what he hoped was a stern look.

'What happened was not your fault. Don't say otherwise,' he added, as he was sure that Alfred had opened his mouth to argue. 'Please don't blame yourself. If you want to blame someone, blame the monsters – blame this wretched house – heck, blame fate for all I know but don't blame yourself, Alfred.'

'But England –'

'No buts, mister,' said Arthur, but before he could continue with his lecture, he doubled over in pain.

'England? What's the matter?' Alfred sounded panicked. He tried to remove Arthur's hands from where they had clutched themselves to his head but Arthur moved away.

His head was splitting in agony. The sixth sense was screaming inside his mind: _danger! Danger! DANGER!_ Stars were dancing in front of his eyes and, groaning, Arthur tried to get up only to be pushed back down by Alfred.

'Oh no you don't,' he said, gripping Arthur's shoulders tightly. 'Hey! I need a little help here!'

The pain was getting more and more intense; Arthur could hardly hold it all in. Soon, he was screaming, his hands clutching his head. Tears were making their way out of the corners of his eyes and he could hear the rest of the countries bustling around, trying to help.

'Arthur?'

The world suddenly went still. Arthur just managed to say, 'Danger – run,' before he fell into unconsciousness, the last thing he saw being Feliciano standing in front of an enormous, grand mirror.

* * *

**A/N: So, what do you think? Please let me know! **

**I am also putting this up on Deviantart, so if you want to read it there, by all means please do. It's under the same account name as this one.**

**Also, I just wanted to say that I am not a Hetalia "shipper", meaning that I do not ship the male countries together or the female countries together. So don't expect any FrUK or USUK or Spamano or the like. The relationship between England and America in this chapter is simply brotherly love; no more, no less. Don't get me wrong, I do not hate or dislike anyone who IS a Hetalia "shipper" so please, no flames. **

**Review, and you guys get the next chapter :D**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey everyone! So - chapter 2 is up and running. I just wanted to say I humongous THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed/commented, favourited and watched/alerted this story, both on here and Deviantart. I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH! AND THANKS SO MUCH! **

**ENJOY.**

******Disclaimer: Hetalia, Harry Potter and HetaOni are NOT mine. If they were, many things would not have happened. End of story.**

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

Checking to see that the doors were firmly locked, mental images worked their way into his mind: dark, blank eyes full of anger; death and blood surrounding him, suffocating him; his closest friends, dull eyes staring at the ceiling for eternity, dead and cold to the touch.

He shook his head to clear it, sighing in defeat. _Are those stupid images ever going to leave me alone?_

'Hey – bastard,' came a voice from behind him.

Turning around, he saw Lovino looking tense, his arms crossed over his chest.

'What is it, Lovi?' he asked, concern rising in his voice. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing!' Lovino said quickly, a blush forming across his cheeks. 'Dammit...'

He rested his head on a bookshelf, eyebrows furrowed in thought. Antonio walked over to him and gingerly placed a hand on his shoulder, and when Lovino didn't go into his usual 'Don't touch me,' mode, Antonio felt shocked.

'Alright, Lovi – what's the matter?' he inquired, a stern tone embedded in his voice.

Lovino stared at him, alarm clearly written in his eyes. He opened his mouth to argue but was cut off with 'And don't say nothing, Lovi. I know something is wrong. Now spit it out.'

A strained silence followed, Lovino staying uncharacteristically hushed. In fact, Antonio thought he looked ready to cry; this startled him even more. _Where is the swearing, brash and name-calling Lovino? What's happened to him? Where is that crazy boy that I care about so much? _He thought incredulously to himself.

'… Lovi?'

Lovino shut his eyes and a few tears fell down his cheeks. Antonio was frozen in astonishment but before he could even blink, let alone give a few consoling words, Lovino started ranting.

'This may sound stupid but I think – no, I _know – _that something terribly wrong has happened to Veneziano. I don't know what or how – dammit. I just want to go back and see if he's okay because – because – I THINK HE'S DEAD!'

With a cry of anguish, Lovino slid down the bookcase and began to sob. Antonio stared at him for a few seconds before taking a seat next to the young man and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Lovino buried his head into his chest and continued to weep.

'Lovi,' Antonio began tentatively, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. 'What makes you think that Ita's dead?'

Taking a couple of deep breaths, Lovino glared at him, saying, 'I know, _idiota_, because he is my _fratello – _I know in here.'

He placed a shaky hand on his chest, over the spot where his heart was.

'You sensed it?' Antonio whispered in awe. It still surprised him to this day just how close the Italy brothers were, even if Lovino was a constant meanie towards Feliciano.

Lovino looked at his feet, nodding solemnly. There was a slight pause then –

'I just want him safe – that's all!' he yelled, punching his leg in anger. 'That's all I fucking want! I know I don't show it and I know I most certainly don't admit it but I love my _fratello_! I just want him to be fucking safe! Dammit – dammit – _dammit_!'

'L – Lovi! Calm down!' Antonio told him, flustered. _He's making too much noise, _he thought, glancing warily at the doors. _If the others hear us – I don't think I will be able to explain. After all, I didn't do such a good job with England._

It took several minutes to calm down the raging Lovino. He sniffled, then abruptly lifted his head, his brown eyes wide in shock.

'S – Spain?' he whispered, clutching on to Antonio's arm in fear. 'Is it just me or... did the room suddenly get colder?'

Antonio then realised that were goosebumps rising on his arms and the air around them seemed to be very chilly.

All of a sudden, there was a deafening shriek from above them. Standing up with the speed of light, Antonio grabbed his axe, Lovino his gun. Crawling above them, with a cruel flicker in its eyes, was yet another monster.

'_Ataque!_' Antonio roared, swinging his axe in defence, just as the Thing landed on top of him.

'Spain!' Lovino cried, firing his gun rapidly at the creature.

He started swearing in angry Italian as the monster raised a clawed arm and swiped it towards the Spaniard it had pinned underneath it.

'NO! _Merda!_' Lovino screeched, running like the wind with his gun poised and ready to fire. '_Stupida creatura del cazzo! Lascia stare il mio Spagna!_'

Dropping his gun with a clatter, he jumped on to the attacking arm and held on tightly with his arms and legs.

'LOVINO! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?'

But Lovino wasn't listening. The monster, surprised at first from the body hanging on to its arm, was now trying to shake him off; Lovino was holding on for dear life.

Below, Antonio was struggling with the giant knee that was currently pressed against his leg. It was very painful and his eyes were watering. _Well, I guess now it's broken, _he thought, trying fruitlessly to remove himself. His axe lay several feet away from him and he reached out to get it, only to meet air. _It's too far away. Just a little more..._

A high-pitched scream caught his attention. Snapping his gaze upwards, he watched in horror as the monster grabbed Lovino's body and threw him at the wall. He hit it with a sickening crack and he slid down it, staying too still for Antonio's liking.

A fury like he had never felt before bubbled in his entire being. With a loud battle cry, he managed to get his hands on his axe and he swung it at the giant, grey knee with all the strength he had in him. The creature howled and Antonio could move again; he stood up awkwardly and gripped the axe so tightly his knuckles turned white.

'Now you've done it,' he growled, raising the axe high above his head. He was shaking in anger. 'No one hurts my Lovi and you, my friend, have made this guy _very _mad.'

The monster was unfazed by this. On the contrary, it snarled and made its way to Antonio but all it got in return was a thwack as the blade met home.

'I WILL HACK YOU TO PIECES! THIS IS FOR LOVINO, YOU ARSE!'

With one final hit, the axe buried itself deep in the Thing's forehead as Antonio threw it. It gave a pitiful whimper before it faded away, letting the weapon fall to the ground.

Antonio was breathing heavily, his face flushed and sweat dripping from his hair. His legs finally gave away and he fell forwards, landing on flat on his face. Groaning, he sat up slowly and looked at his legs.

'Huh – I guess it _is _broken,' he muttered, staring at his oddly angled leg. 'How about that, eh, Lovi?'

Realisation suddenly slapped him hard in the face. _Lovi. _He looked around, hoping that what he saw was a dream until his eyes rested on Lovino's frozen figure.

'Lovi!'

He began to drag himself towards the fallen nation. He was weary and agonised but that didn't stop him: he needed to get to Lovino and if that meant going through the depths of hell, then so be it.

Antonio continued to crawl, praying to God that Lovino was still alive. When he finally reached him, he saw blood trickling down the side of Lovino's face.

'Shit,' he mumbled, taking off his shirt and ripping some material from one of the sleeves.

Carefully, he moved Lovino so that his head was in Antonio's lap. Moving a few stray strands of hair out of his eyes, he proceeded to bandage the profusely bleeding wound.

The steady rise and fall of Lovino's chest was the only thing that kept him relaxed. _He's alright, he's not dead. He's alright, he's not dead, _he chanted in his head.

Tucking in the end of the makeshift bandage, Antonio gave a great sigh. He let his head rest against the wall and he shut his eyes. He wanted to sleep; he was fatigued but he needed to stay awake for Lovino's sake. His hand absent-mindedly started to stroke his hair and a small smile went across his face.

'England – whatever you're doing,' he said aloud, brushing away the hair on Lovino's face tenderly. 'Hurry up. We need to get out of here – before we die. Please... hurry... for Lovino.'

* * *

**A/N: So - whadda ya think? Let me know!**

**Translations:**

**_Idiota: _Italian for "idiot"**

**_Fratello: _Italian for "brother"**

**_Ataque!: _Spanish for "attack!"**

**_Merda: _Italian for "shit"**

**___Stupida creatura del cazzo! Lascia stare il mio Spagna!:_ Italian for "You stupid, fucking creature! Get away from my Spain!"**

**Next stop: China and Russia :D**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: There you go: chapter 3 up! I never realised just how popular this story is (maybe not on here but Deviantart...). I would just like to say one thing: can you guys please leave a review? I'm thinking that maybe I'm posting this story up here for nothing. Can you prove me wrong? Anyway, ENJOY.**

**********Disclaimer: Hetalia, Harry Potter and HetaOni are NOT mine. If they were, many things would not have happened. End of story.**

* * *

Shivering involuntarily from the cold, Yao climbed down the ladder into the annexe with the big Russian following close behind.

Touching down with a soft _thump_, Yao blinked rapidly as his eyes hit darkness. _Aiya! It's really dark down here!_

'So – what is it you want to do again?' asked a Russian accented voice as Ivan appeared beside him.

'I'm here to solve a riddle,' Yao replied simply before setting off down the hallway.

Ivan said nothing but went after the retreating Chinese nation with his hands deep inside his pockets.

Yao repressed a shudder as they shuffled further into the annexe. He could feel some terrible karma in the air around him; all his senses were screaming at him, telling him to run for it. After all, didn't Arthur just tell them to run before he collapsed; that there was danger lurking about? But Yao kept his ground; he needed to confirm the mystery that he had read in the notes that were strewn over the table in the safe room: the notes written, for some reason unknown, in _his _handwriting.

'This is too much of a puzzle, aru,' he muttered to himself, missing the nonplussed expression pass over Ivan's countenance.

Coming to a sudden halt, Yao drew out his wok and ladle, and Ivan mirrored him, extracting his metal pipe from beneath his coat.

They were standing in front of the door leading to the biggest room: the room, according to Kiku, where Arthur lost his sight, Alfred his glasses and Feliciano his life.

'This – this is _the _room, da?' Ivan queried casually and when Yao nodded meekly he added, 'Well then, in that case, we better be extra cautious.

For once in his life, Yao couldn't agree more with him. The atmosphere was getting worse, if not colder. A nasty voice in his head said cheekily, much to Yao's annoyance: _you go in there and you die. The Russian isn't going to be nice to you. He's always stalking you; what makes you think he isn't just planing an attack on you? You sure you want to continue?_

Growling in frustration, he pushed open the door hard. Sure, he hadn't always been on good terms with Ivan but he would never forget the time when they were acquaintances. They were great allies and even greater friends but that all changed when their countries broke apart. Yao had tried to keep his distance but no matter where he turned, there he was, the young determined nation with the pleading violet eyes, begging to be friends with him again.

He sighed wearily and turned around to see Ivan giving him a quizzical look.

'Is everything okay, China? Are you hurt?' he asked the older nation, his tone full of anxiety.

Yao stared; he felt completely baffled. His mind travelled back to several years ago: he had been dead tired and was covered, from head to toe, in wounds. He could barely walk but he continued his journey; he had to find a safe place to recover.

His knees had buckled and he fell to the ground, unable to move any longer. The area around him had been a barren land blanketed with snow. There was no vegetation in sight: just the never-ending horizon. A ferocious wind had blown, ruffling the fine strands of hair that had escaped from his ponytail.

'Excuse me – is everything okay? Are you hurt?' came a child's voice nearby.

When he had looked up, Yao had came face-to-face with a little boy, no more than seven years old. He had the largest pair of violet eyes that he had ever seen, with beige coloured hair upon his head. He had a look of anxiety, just like his older self did now. Yao was instantly fascinated. _How is this child still healthy and alive in a place like this?_ He had thought as he struggled into a sitting position.

The young boy had been staring at Yao, interested and his large orbs had scanned his body, letting a slight gasp fall past his lips. Then, with surprising strength, he had grabbed Yao's hand and had hulled him up from the snow-covered ground.

'You're hurt,' he had announced and had begun pulling him forwards. 'I'm taking you to my house. I'm going to make you all better!'

Yao shut his eyes as he remembered the little Ivan. He missed him, just as much as he missed the little Kiku in the forest where he found him all those years ago.

He suddenly came to a conclusion; just because their bosses had broken the alliance treaty at the end of the war, that didn't mean he couldn't be friends with Ivan and to be honest, he would rather be friends than be stalked.

At last, for the first time in years, Yao gave Ivan a genuine smile and responded, 'I'm fine, Russia – just a headache. Thanks for asking, aru.'

For the third time that day, Ivan looked bewildered, slightly startled at Yao's reaction. However, slowly but surely, a smile that matched Yao's flitted across his face as he understood the meaning behind the glint in Yao's eyes and the largeness of his grin.

'That's good to know,' he said cheerfully. 'My friend,' he added in a whisper.

Yao's smile grew wider, nodding in approval and he beckoned Ivan to come into the room.

'Hold on – does that mean that you're now one with Mother Russia?'

A feeling of dread passed through him. Yao opened his mouth to stutter a retort only to notice that Ivan was chuckling into his hand. He sighed inwardly and he thought, _he's just joking_, sending him a playful glare which Ivan returned with a mischievous smirk.

When the pair entered the vast space, Yao's senses grew much sharper. He gripped his wok and ladle tightly, and set forward to the large table in front of him.

Ivan went on a little further, leaving Yao to study the notes laid out on the table. He disappeared behind one of the many bookshelves and began rummaging through the pages of a book.

As Yao rustled through the many papers, he only just managed to keep back furious grumbles. Every single paper was written in languages he wasn't able to translate – from French to German, Old English to Latin – it was driving him mad.

'AIYA!' he let out, letting his head fall onto his arms and causing a certain Russian to poke his head out from behind the shelf. 'I give up, aru!'

'Aw – there's no need to give up so quickly,' Ivan sang, walking over to the crestfallen Yao. 'You need help, da?'

The only response he got was a pitiful moan and a half-hearted wave of a hand. Ivan allowed himself a light snicker. Watching the older nation go on a rampage was too funny for him.

His eyes flickered through the pile of papers until they rested on one that seemed to be out of place. Frowning, he picked it up and he recognised a hand he knew too well. A shiver went down his spine as he read the first line. He was Ivan Braginsky and if a single line from a note freaked him out, then it was bad.

'China,' he muttered, placing a hand on Yao's shoulder. 'You may want to see this. It's... kind of creepy.'

Yao's head shot up immediately and he snatched the paper from Ivan's hands, skimming through it.

_Time Loop ?:_

_I noticed that wherever I go, the... creatures, I guess you could call them, follow me. Especially around the second floor. _

_Also, I found a most mysterious object sitting in the piano room with Japan. However, all I got was a glimpse of glass for I suddenly got distracted._

_Japan died in seconds. He was always the first to die._

…

_Time Loop ?:_

_I found the same object again: this time, in the room with the fireplace but again, I didn't get a closer look but I am sure it is the same one as I saw in the room with the piano._

…

_Time Loop ?:_

_After all this time, I never thought I would find a mirror in this place. I suddenly remembered that I had first seen it the very first time we all came here. It is very tall, with a golden frame and clawed feet and the words... well that's the strange thing: they don't make much sense. I tried to see if it was some form of odd Italian but no such luck._

_But the thing about this mirror is what I saw in it. I didn't see just my reflection but all my friends having escaped from this mansion. It was rather weird at first but I think I know what this mirror does: it shows the future. _

_I am positive that it is the key to getting out of here. I know it._

…

His hands were shaking as he stared at the parchment.

'A mirror, aru?' he murmured, still looking at the paper in awe. _Why does this mirror seem familiar?_

The pieces clicked in his mind and Yao let out a shriek.

'Aiya! I've got it, aru!' he yelled triumphantly, turning towards Ivan. 'I've solved the riddle!'

Ivan looked flabbergasted but motioned with his hands for Yao to continue.

'Well, Russia, while I was reading the notes that are in the safe room, I came across one where my handwriting was all over it,' he explained, standing up and pacing back and forth. 'I didn't realise what it was at first but as soon as I started reading, I came to the conclusion that the answer laid here, aru.

'You see, in the notes, there was a description of a glass object but I reckon that my past self (who I assumed wrote the notes; I mean, who else knows Chinese and raves on about Kiku?) found this mirror but didn't realise it.

'But this mirror – it keeps changing places, aru. One time loop, its on the third floor and the next one its somewhere else. Not only that but the notes also mentioned that the past-me found some medicine bottles, aru. I haven't seen any of those two treasures whilst in this time loop and we've checked every room except this one right here, which was also explained in the notes. _This room doesn't exist, _at least, according to my past self, aru.'

Ivan remained silent, processing the information in his head.

'So you're saying,' he said after a minute. 'That the notes were written by your past self in order to help your future self – which is you now – know the house better and you think that these medicine bottles and mirror are here – in this room – because your past self didn't discover this place then, da?'

'_Our _past selves,' Yao corrected, nodding in encouragement. 'I wasn't the only one who wrote the papers. Look –'

Yao showed Ivan the rest of the papers and identified each language, pairing them up with their friends upstairs.

'All of these – written by us in the past to help us now,' Yao defined, the clues adding up in his head as he spoke. 'This note proves it, aru,' he added, shaking the note that Ivan found. 'Not even Italy knew about this place – remember? When Japan first mentioned the room, Italy was just as interested as we were.

'He was the one who could turn back time and no one knows just how many times he as done it, aru.'

'And because of that,' Ivan continued, catching on. 'He must have known about all the rooms in the house!'

'Except this one,' they said together, discovery sparkling in their eyes.

'Which means,' Yao went on, looking closer at the space. 'I was right – the answer to the mysteries to getting out lie here but – where are they, aru?'

The room was large true, but there was no sign of a large mirror or a stack of medicine bottles. They searched high and low, in every nook and cranny for about an hour before sitting in their chairs, defeated. Neither of them noticed the door on the side.

'Aiya, there's nothing, aru!' Yao moaned, rubbing his hands over his face in exasperation.

Ivan, however, was not paying attention. His violet eyes were focused on a sight a few feet away.

'China – duck.'

'What?'

'I said DUCK!'

A scream split the air as Yao went under the table and Ivan swung his faucet pipe. A creature had crept up behind the Chinese man, only to meet the end of Ivan's weapon in its face. The Thing screeched and retaliated: Ivan got a blow to the chest that sent him flying backwards.

'RUSSIA! AIYA!'

The creature shrieked as Yao hit it rapidly with his wok and ladle. Ivan soon joined the fight, having recovered quickly from his fall and began banging his pipe against its limbs.

This lasted several minutes: the creature howling and screaming; Ivan and Yao hitting it and getting hit in return.

Suddenly, the creature swatted Yao aside with a hard smack and he ended up in front of a door in a heap: the door he had not noticed before.

'Russia!' he yelled, pointing to the door after a dumbstruck moment.

The Russian made a run for it as Yao struggled with the handle. They clambered in and shut the door with a satisfying _click. _The monster roared, agitated and soon, they heard the heavy footfalls fade off into the distance.

'Ah, its gone, da?' Ivan muttered in a happy tone.

All Yao could do was give a weak nod. _They are getting more powerful. At this rate, we are never going to get out of here._

He spun around, letting his tired eyes study the room. They took in a table, a couple of bookshelves and a closet. He was about to say, 'There's nothing interesting here,' when something caught his eye: sitting on one of the shelves, insides full of liquids all different colours and thicknesses was –

'Russia! It's the medicine bottles – look, aru!' Yao said excitedly, strolling up to the shelf and taking down the small box, setting it upon on the table.

There were many flagons and flasks that were unalike to each other: some were large, some small; some held watery fluids, some thick as mud; some even had glittering concoctions within them. They were unlike anything Yao had ever seen in his life.

'These... are amazing, aru,' he whispered, astounded, taking one of the bottles in his hands and examining it. _This is medicine? _'Russia – take a look.'

There was an eerie silence. Yao's body stiffened. He was sure that Ivan had come into the room with him – so why wasn't he talking?

'Russia?'

A choked gasp made Yao turn swiftly towards the noise. Ivan was standing like a statue, his eyes round as dinner plates, gawking in fear at something in the corner. A single tear made its way down his cheek and his knuckles were white from clenching his pipe.

'Russia... aru?'

Yao felt bollixed: Ivan Braginsky, the man who made powerful men cower in fright from a single glance, was crying?

More tears fell and Ivan began to shiver, his large shoulders quaking. He seemed transfixed in what he was looking at that he couldn't help but stay where he was.

Yao couldn't believe what he was seeing. He tentatively walked over to where the Russian man stood and saw what he was looking at: none other than the mysterious mirror that was mentioned in the notes.

'Ah! You found it, aru!' exclaimed Yao, slapping a hand on Ivan's shoulder but Ivan made no reaction. He was shaking his head and stepping away from the mirror with horror etched on his face.

'No... no – please no.'

His tone was imploring and the tears were falling like a raging waterfall; his dark aura loomed and caused the area to drop down several degrees in temperature. All Yao could do was watch as the scene folded out in front of him; he was frightened of intervening.

One moment, Ivan was still – the next he had raised his pipe and let out a bull-like roar. Yao jumped out of the way as Ivan charged towards the mirror. The sound of breaking glass fell out like a bomb in the quiet room. The mirror lay in pieces, completely shattered, its frame empty.

Ivan was breathing heavily, gaping at his work. Then, he stomped out of the room and slammed the door. Yao had enough sense in him to grab the box of bottles and go after him but he paused at the exit as he heard more things breaking in the room beyond. _Oh my..._

'Russia – what are you doing, aru?' he called through the door. 'You're going to hurt yourself!'

But the sound of cracking wood made Yao hurry out of the room, not bothering to shut the door behind him. The room was trashed and Ivan was still continuing his destruction of the place, pipe whacking every surface possible. The racket he was making was deafening – from his murderous screams to the smashing of objects – and it was giving Yao a booming headache.

'RUSSIA – ENOUGH!' Yao bellowed, putting the box down and yanking out his wok and ladle.

Ivan didn't seem to hear him for he kept making a mess. Yao was yelling his name but still Ivan rampaged. _What the hell did he see in that mirror? _Yao thought to himself as he raised his wok, ready to bring it down on Ivan's head but he couldn't do it: he couldn't knock out the Russian. _There's only one thing I haven't tried. Please, let it work._

'IVAN BRAGINSKY, STOP THIS NONSENSE AT ONCE!'

That did the trick: Ivan – about to hit yet another bookshelf – stood frozen at the sound of his human name, the metal piece high above his head.

There was a clatter as the pipe fell to the floor and Ivan sank to his knees, his head touching the ground, his hands disappearing into his hair. Racking sobs shook his body and echoed in the destroyed space, making Yao's heart break.

Without saying a word, Yao dropped his weapons and strode over to the weeping boy. He knelt down beside him and rubbed soothing circles on Ivan's back, his voice stuck in his throat. The young nation then pounced unexpectedly and wrapped his arms around Yao's waist, crying harder and gripping his shirt tightly. Yao almost lost his balance but managed to regain it as he looked down at Ivan's head, one of his hands holding his weight.

Before he could make another move, Ivan sat up and hastily wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. The usually bright violet orbs were dull, puffy and red; his cheeks were flushed and his bottom lip quivered ever so slightly. Over all, he looked downright depressed.

'I'm sorry about that,' he said apologetically, a grim smile on his face. 'It's just that mirror – it's bad news.'

'I figured, aru,' Yao said sternly, crossing his arms over his chest. 'But that didn't mean you had to break it.'

'You didn't see what I saw,' Ivan retorted, glaring at Yao who glared back. 'Just stay away from it.'

'And what exactly did you see, aru?' Yao asked testily, standing up and using his current height to be intimidating.

Ivan opened his mouth, thought better of it and closed it. Yao was cross. _After all that and he won't even tell me? How rude._

'Whatever,' he muttered, picking up his goods and stalking off grumpily to the door leaving the room. 'If you won't tell me, maybe you'll tell the others. After all, no one tells me anything - I am a useless old lump.'

'China!' Ivan called after him but he had already left the room, a lump in his throat and tears threatening to leave his eyes.

* * *

**A/N: Aw don't be sad, China. I am sure that there are many fangirls out there who love you just as much as I do. :3**

**So there you have it: a grumpy, ignored China and a rampaging Russia.**

**Review? **


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: OK, so - here is Chapter 4! I just wanted to make two things clear before you guys get into this chapter.**

**1. This is going to be the last chapter for a while for I have started school and won't have time to write.**

**2. I want to thank the wonderful people who have favourited and reviewed. Seriously, you guys rock and I am overwhelmed at the support and encouragement I am receiving here and on Deviantart. Just... thank you so much. Honestly, you guys have no idea how much this means to me.**

**So, ENJOY and I hope to update sometime in the near future! **

**~doubleox515**

**Disclaimer: Hetalia, Harry Potter and HetaOni are NOT mine. If they were, many things would not have happened. End of story.**

* * *

Keeping a tight hold of his furry friend, Matthew eyed the door that Ivan and Yao had just left through in curiosity. _Odd of them to leave at a time like this, _he wondered, turning back to the scene in front of him.

'Arthur? Arthur! Can you hear me, Arthur?'

'Of course he cannot hear you! He's unconscious, America!'

'Shut it, France.'

Francis huffed in annoyance, his hands on his hips and he sent Matthew a look saying _can you fix this?_

Matthew held back his own sigh of irritation: of course he had to be the one to put his obnoxious brother in order. It usually was and he was rather sick of it; Alfred never listened to what he had to say and he went about on his own way, ignoring Matthew's advice. _But he is your brother and right now he needs you,_ he told himself harshly. _Whether or not he is going to take heed to your warnings is entirely up to him._

'America?' he began, giving his brother a one-armed hug. Alfred looked up, startled at the sudden gesture, his hand holding Arthur's own in a death grip.

'Listen America – and I mean really listen,' he continued sternly. 'England has just passed out and you freaking out is doing no one any good. So... will you calm down? Just a little?'

Alfred blinked a few times, then said in a voice several octaves higher than normal, 'But how can I calm down when he just said for us to run? Do you know what he meant? I mean, I don't see any danger around here – well, at least not in this room – do you?'

Matthew shook his head. He didn't know what Arthur had meant by telling them to flee either. It was quite a shock, along with the fact that he had collapsed straight after. He had to admit, he was worried; not just about Arthur and the fact that they might all die, but about Alfred's sanity too. He was flying off the handle more than usual, ever since he came back from the past with Feliciano and Ludwig, even more so when he returned from the annexe with Arthur on his shoulders, muttering with tears in his eyes about it being all his fault.

'Amerique, mon cher,' Francis whispered, taking a seat on the edge of Arthur's bed and staring at Alfred with an expression of pity. 'I don't know what he meant by it either but really, that is no reason to lose it. He needs you to be calm – and rested,' he added, his look of sympathy turning into a strict one. 'Seriously, you look terrible.'

'He's right, America,' Matthew went on, his tone quiet. 'You need to wash up and get some sleep. That nightmare has drained it all out of you. We don't want you passing out as well.'

Alfred gazed at Matthew and Francis for a while longer before standing up from his post, his eyes downcast.

'Y-You're right. I'll just... go wash my face,' he mumbled and he walked miserably away, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand.

Matthew felt heartbroken; he hated seeing his brother so hopeless. It was unnatural in every way possible. He couldn't allow it.

'Alfred – wait!' he called. He shoved Kumajiro into Francis's arms – who gave a yelp of surprise at the sudden movement – and ran after his brother's retreating back.

Alfred, alarmed at the use of his human name, swivelled towards the shout to find Matthew's arms swing around his neck. Stunned at this unusual action, he slowly hugged his brother back, burying his cheek into Matthew's shoulder.

'Come on, Alfie,' Matthew muttered, pulling away and grabbing Alfred's hand, steering him to the bathroom door. 'Let me help you out.'

'S-Sure...'

Matthew opened the door and led Alfred into the spacious, polished bathroom. After telling him to sit on the edge of the bathtub in one of the cubicles, Matthew went in search for a cloth. He scanned the entire area before finding one in the corner of the cubicle nearest to the door. Satisfied, he brought it back to Alfred but stopped at the entrance as a familiar voice flitted into his head.

_'What took you so long? What have you been doing?'_

The blood running through Matthew's veins turned to ice. _No – don't you dare remind me._

_'What? Harassed? Just tell me already. Do you want to cooperate with me or not?'_

Shivers went up and down his spine as he remembered the cold look in the man's eyes, his tone like the sharp edge of a knife. _Oh God... shut up. I don't want to remember._

_'What the heck? I don't care. Where are you now? We are making progress, aren't we? And why can I hear a voice?'_

'Shut up – just shut up! I don't care – I really don't give a damn,' Matthew said firmly, not bothering to keep his voice down.

'Canada?' Alfred called from behind the door but Matthew didn't answer.

_'… why would you do that? I can't believe it. I did find it weird. Playing tricks like this...'_

'Matthew? Dude, you're scaring me – what's wrong?' Alfred did sound frightened but Matthew, again, did not reply. His hands were balled into fists by his side and his eyes were screwed shut.

_'Um...'_

_'Argh! C-Canada... you – er – how long have you been there?'_

_'Uh, well... I've been here all along.'_

'Okay, that's it – I'm coming out,' Alfred warned, turning the handle on the door and stepping out.

_'R-Right...'_

_'… I'll go check up on America.'_

'I said SHUT UP!' Matthew yelled, punching the wall next to him.

'Mattie!' exclaimed Alfred, shocked, seizing Matthew and pulling him away from the wall. 'What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you punching walls?'

'Nothing,' Matthew said quickly, escaping from Alfred's grip and pushing him back into the cubicle. 'I thought I told you to stay in there. Why don't you ever listen to me?'

'I got worried when you didn't answer,' Alfred replied simply, wincing in pain as Matthew pushed him back to his seat on the bathtub. 'Ow, that hurt.'

'Maybe that'll teach you to listen,' Matthew growled severely, putting the cloth under cold water and applying it to Alfred's tear-streaked face. 'And there's nothing to worry about – is that clear?'

Alfred went silent for a moment but Matthew knew that he wouldn't let the subject drop that easily. He was proven correct as Alfred retorted lightly, 'Don't lie to me, Matthew. You never get mad, let alone punch a hole in the wall – well, unless you count that time where you told me off for three hours but other than that, you're quiet and kind, not angry and brash.'

'Your point, America?' Matthew inquired coldly, turning away from his brother's calculating gaze, twisting the cloth and letting the water from it drip into the sink.

'My point, Matthew, is that something is bothering you and it has nothing to do with me being an ass.'

'I don't want to talk about it,' Matthew said bluntly, glaring at Alfred through the reflection in the mirror.

He saw Alfred give a shrug, saying, 'Okay – if that's how you'll play but remember: I am here to listen if you want to talk.'

Matthew took a second to analyse Alfred's expression, checking for flaws. Alfred never noticed him, never gave a damn about him – so why should he now? After a couple of moments, however, he saw that Alfred was telling the truth and he sighed, mumbling, 'I'm scared, Alfie.'

'About?'

'… everything.'

Dropping the soaked cloth in the basin, he dejectedly took a seat next to Alfred, letting his head drop onto his shoulder as he spoke.

'All of this is freaking me out – the monsters; the deaths; being trapped – I have never been so afraid.

'Whenever someone leaves this room, I expect there to be screaming, you know? That the Thing is waiting for us on the other side and that I can't do anything but watch as my friends die. I... feel completely and utterly useless.

'Also, I feel that if I say something stupid that it's not going to end well for you guys – what I mean by that is if I solve a riddle incorrectly or say a secret that was meant to be kept hidden that you will just plummet straight into your deaths. I – I am terrified and I don't what do to.'

Matthew broke with a gasp as he tried to hold back tears. His eyes were burning, wanting to release the dam of fear. He clasped the edge of the bath and let his head drop. Then, he almost jumped in alarm when Alfred's arm was placed around his shoulders. He glanced up and saw an uncharacteristically serious look on his brother's face.

'Now you listen to me,' he said sternly, his blue eyes boring into Matthew's purple ones. 'You listen to me very closely, Matthew: nothing bad is going to happen while the rest of us are all alive and kicking. As long as we're together, no one else is going to die.

'You are not useless – in fact, you're actually dead useful, Mattie. Without you, we would have never found that room with all those creatures and learnt that it is not always best to rely on the past but to think about the future. Honestly, if it weren't for you, we would've been stuck in that room for ages – or worse, unlocked something even more dangerous.

'Another point: we are going to get out of here, no matter what. You just wait and see, Mattie. We are getting out.

'And one more thing,' Alfred's expression turned hard. 'If someone is threatening you, whether it be verbally or physically, you tell me right now. I mean it, dude – no one threatens my brother. If it's that commie bastard, I swear –'

'It's not Russia!' Matthew declared a bit too quickly, but thankfully his haste went unnoticed by Alfred. _That was a lie, Matthew,_ he thought, slapping himself mentally. _But I can't just tell Alfred about the phone call and the fact that Russia may be betraying us._

Shaking his head to clear it, Matthew stared at Alfred, a feeling of hope arising in his chest. His dense brother was right: they were going to get out this treacherous mansion for good. He gave Alfred a smile which he returned with his infamous grin but it went away almost as soon as it came.

'You know, Mattie, it's alright to be scared,' he said wisely, his gaze fixed on the floor. 'Heck, I am so terrified right now that it's unbelievable. I feel like I'm watching one of my horror movies but much more appalling.'

He gave a nervous laugh and raked a hand through his hair, making it stick up. His expression was solemn and his eyes were dark.

'All of my nightmares are coming true here,' he said in a hushed voice. 'All of them – that's why I flipped out when I had that one a couple of minutes ago – because I am spooked. I'm scared to death that – that _that _one is going to come true and –'

He went silent, the arm around Matthew's shoulders falling off as Alfred buried his head in his hands. Matthew didn't say a word; truth is, he didn't know what to say.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and Francis's voice came from the other side.

'Are you two alright?' he asked, an edge to his tone. 'You have been in there for over an hour!'

_We have? _Matthew thought incredulously and seeing the look on Alfred's face, he knew that he was thinking the exact same thing.

'We're fine, France,' Alfred said hurriedly, not wanting Francis to open the door and storm in. 'Just – er...'

He sent Matthew a pleading expression. _Help me! _His face read.

'Just having some – er –' Matthew said, trying to hide the stutter. 'Some... brother-bonding time!'

He gave Alfred a frightened look and was astonished to see him smiling warmly at him.

'Well, that's nice and everything but really, now is not the time,' Francis scolded. 'You better come out – something bad is happening.'

That made Matthew and Alfred rush out in panic. When they exited the bathroom, they understood why Francis had called them. Faintly, somewhere downstairs, someone was screaming and there were many bangs and crashes.

'What the hell is that?' came a peeved voice from the kitchen. Gilbert stuck his head out with his cheeks bulging, several of Kiku's rice balls in his hands.

'Dude, not cool,' said Alfred playfully, his eyes dancing with laughter. 'It's my job to eat all the food!'

'I was hungry,' said Gilbert defensively, swallowing the food and locking his gaze onto the stairwell. 'What is happening down there?'

Matthew, Alfred and Francis shrugged. Matthew repressed a shudder: the yells, the banging – it sounded way too familiar. It sounded a bit like...

He gasped in shock. _No way. It can't be him..._

Then –

'IVAN BRAGINSKY, STOP THIS NONSENSE AT ONCE!'

_Damn._

'Japan? Come on – we are going down,' Gilbert announced, businesslike, poking his head into the kitchen and extracting a confused Kiku.

'What? Why?' he queried nervously, trying not to drop the rice ball he was making as Gilbert dragged him out.

'Didn't you hear the yelling?' Francis asked incredulously, stroking Kumajiro's fur, who was still in his arms.

'Who are you?'

'I'm France – how many times do I have to tell you?'

Kiku shook his head in denial but didn't get to say anything for the albino handed him his sword, took the one Kiku gave him and pushed him out the door.

'We'll be back,' he proclaimed, slamming the door behind him.

'Be careful...' Matthew whispered, taking his polar bear from Francis and hugging him tightly.

'Who are you?' he asked again, cuddling into Matthew's arms.

'I'm Canada,' he murmured, his usual cheeriness absent from his tone.

**oOo**

It had been a long time before Alfred, Francis and Matthew managed to stop pacing and stay still. They were seated at the large table in the centre of the room, their chins in their palms, their thoughts swimming in their minds like fish in a pond.

Matthew couldn't stop thinking about Ivan's yells. The only time he had experienced that kind of behaviour from him was when they had first seen the monster in this time loop, just in front of the entrance to the mansion. Ivan had been most frightening – at least, that's what Matthew remembered before he got knocked out. _I wonder what happened down there, _he mused, his violet eyes fixed on the door.

'They have been gone for ages!' Francis exclaimed, checking his watch for the fiftieth time. 'Where on Earth are they?'

He almost immediately got his answer. From the other side of the door, there was a swarm of angry muttering. The trio didn't even have time to exchange puzzled looks before the door was thrown open and a very grumpy-looking Yao bounded in, followed closely by Kiku and Gilbert, who both had expressions of distress. Ivan came in suit, sulky and tearful, his head down.

Yao, buzzing fiercely, dumped a box full of glass bottles in front of Matthew and stormed off towards the kitchen. Kiku was trying to calm him down – and failing.

'China-san! Please stop – you're not making sense!' he spluttered, following Yao into the kitchen.

Gilbert sat across from Francis – who sat next to Matthew – and put his head in his hands, letting out a tired groan. Matthew noticed scratches and a rather deep cut on his knuckles; his snow-coloured hair was covered in what Matthew made out to be blood and his uniform had several rips and stains.

Ivan dawdled in and slowly sat in a spot away from everyone else, his gaze on his hands. Matthew noted that he seemed rather deplorable, something that was new to see considering it was Ivan Braginsky. He also took in red, puffy eyes and a quivering bottom lip. _What the heck?_

No one else seemed to notice Ivan's new character for their eyes were either on the box, Gilbert or the kitchen entrance. They all were too nervous to ask what had occurred.

Matthew pulled the box of bottles towards him and pulled out a small one, weighing it in his hand. The fluid inside was shimmering a deep green and there was white smoke curling at the neck, just underneath the corked top. A faded label was stuck around it and Matthew just managed to make out _Babbling Beverage _in cursive writing.

Kumajiro poked his head out from his position in Matthew's lap and took a deep sniff at the flask.

'It smells funny,' he squeaked, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

Curiosity taking over his better judgement, Matthew took a sniff of his own and recoiled from the terrible smell. He gave a cough and put the bottle back in the box, waving a hand to get rid of the odour.

'You alright there, Mattie?' came a snicker opposite him and Matthew sent Alfred a glare, earning a loud laugh from his brother.

'Hey, Prussia,' Matthew said in a strained voice, the stench of the liquid still wafting in front of his face. 'Where did you get these?' He pointed to the box in front of him.

Gilbert didn't lift his head to look – he remained silent with his hands over his face. Suddenly, he fell forwards and his forehead hit the table with a powerful _bang_; blood began to pool at his hair and violent spasms wracked his body.

There was the sound of scraping as chairs were hastily pushed back in trepidation. Francis took off towards the bedroom whereas Matthew and Alfred grabbed Gilbert's shoulders and hulled him backwards in his seat. Ivan stayed in his spot, completely oblivious to the situation occurring a few feet away from him.

'Mattie, help me move him,' Alfred said, his face deadly serious as he bent down to take Gilbert's feet. Matthew put Kumajiro on the table before he slid his elbows under Gilbert's arms and together, he and Alfred carried him – somewhat clumsily – to the bedroom.

Matthew risked a glance at Gilbert's face and nearly dropped him in shock. His face was deathly pale and his eyes were merely crimson slits; there was a dribble of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and an excessive amount was proceeding to escape.

'What's going on?' came a voice from the room beyond, sounding groggy and slurred. Alfred let out a choked cry as they entered the area: Arthur was sitting up in his bed, a frown visible on his face and he was completely and utterly fine.

'We'll explain in a moment!' Matthew replied, just as Alfred let out a few choicy swears at the Brit.

Trying not to knock Gilbert's head on the bed frame, Alfred and Matthew slowly laid him down upon a nearby bed, dodging his flailing limbs. Gilbert's wound had gotten worse on the journey and his spasms were much more violent.

'Oh God, oh God, oh God, _oh God_,' Alfred chanted, panic vividly etched on his face and in his tone. 'What do we do? Shit, shit, _shit_!'

Francis had returned, the same look on his face as Alfred's but without the hysterical outburst. He didn't say a word – instead, he gestured that Matthew and Alfred hold the convulsing German down, his blue-eyed gaze fixed on Gilbert's breast pocket. The two brothers obliged and Francis took the opportunity to retrieve an item that was sticking out from it.

In his hand, half-empty, was a flask just like the ones in the box on the table in the other room. Francis's eyes widened and he quickly made his way to the slightly annoyed Englishman. Matthew saw the pair of them exchange heated words before Arthur's unseeing eyes grew round. He muttered something to the Frenchman, who took off into the other room instantly.

A yelp of pain made Matthew's attention draw back to Gilbert. Alfred was holding his nose with both hands, an annoyed expression on his face. Matthew guessed that Gilbert had somehow hit him.

The sound of hurried footfalls came from behind Matthew and he turned, seeing Francis struggling to pull out a cork from yet another bottle.

'How much do I give him, Angleterre?' he yelled in Arthur's direction, coming to a halt at Gilbert's head.

'All of it!'

'Hold him down,' Francis demanded, his hands shaky.

Alfred and Matthew exchanged an alarmed look before doing what Francis asked. He took the moment to tip the contents down Gilbert's throat.

Gilbert's eyes snapped open and he began to protest; it was a hassle for Alfred and Matthew to keep him pinned to the bed, even more for Francis to pour the bottle's insides in his mouth.

Then, Gilbert stopped moving, his crimson eyes wide open. They rolled into the back of his head and he fell back down, defeated. The only thing that showed the others that he was still alive was the rise and fall of his skinny chest.

'Fool,' Francis muttered, his gaze hard as steel. 'That is what happens when you drink something without seeing what it is first!'

'Did it work?' Arthur called as he moved to sit on the edge of his bed.

Francis took a moment to answer. He stared ruefully at Gilbert's figure and Matthew was surprised to see that he was on the verge of tears.

'Oui,' was all he managed to say before he slumped down on Gilbert's bed.

Matthew watched as Alfred gave him a sympathetic pat on the back before making his way over to Arthur. Matthew quickly went to retrieve Kumajiro before sinking down next to Francis. He held out his polar bear friend for him to take; Francis looked puzzled at first but then took the bear gratefully and snuggled him to his chest.

'Who are you?' Kumajiro piped up, peeking up at Francis's depressed countenance.

He didn't answer him. He turned to Matthew and choked out, 'I never thought I would ever have to do anything like that. I am horrified.'

'France, you did the right thing,' Matthew assured him as he placed a comforting hand on his arm. 'You saved his life.'

Francis smiled grimly and looked down at the top of Kumajiro's head.

'You know, Matthieu, you never told me how adorable your little friend is,' he said warmly, patting Kumajiro's fur.

Matthew chuckled and gave Francis a glowing look. However, before he could say any more consoling words, Arthur – being led by Alfred – stood in front of them with a very serious expression on his face.

'We need to talk,' was all he said before being seated opposite the Canadian and Frenchman.

There was a moment's pause, then –

'Alfred has given me a brief summary of what happened,' Arthur began, twisting his hands in his lap. 'But what I need to know is how Prussia managed to get a hold of one of my most deadliest potions.'

Matthew stared at Arthur in astonishment. _Potions? Deadly?_

'Well, Angleterre,' Francis murmured as he absent-mindedly stroked Kumajiro, who nuzzled affectionately into his hand. 'China had a box full of these bottles. I don't where he got them from but... there are quite a few.'

Arthur blinked in confusion.

'A box full of bottles?' he repeated, looking thoroughly puzzled. 'And where is this box?'

'I'll get it,' said Alfred and he bounced happily into the adjacent room. He returned with the box of bottles and carefully put them in Arthur's lap.

He delicately ran his fingers over the necks of the bottles, his mouth moving silently as he counted them. When he reached the last bottle, his bushy eyebrows knitted together.

'Ten – plus the other two, that's twelve,' he said to no one in particular but then his befuddled expression turned into one of dismay. 'Oh shit – there's one missing.'

'What?' Francis, Alfred and Matthew chorused, highly stumped. Arthur picked up the box and held it out. 'Someone read the labels on each of the bottles – quickly!'

Hastily, Matthew grabbed a couple and examined them. One had a stained label reading _Fatiguing Infusion_ in the same cursive hand as the previous one he had read. The others had the same labels, reading _Essence of Dittany_, _Polyjuice Potion_ and _Quodpot Solution_. He read them out to Arthur, as did Alfred and Francis with theirs.

When they had finished, Arthur's face went pale. Matthew thought that he was about to tear his hair out.

'Oh no – oh bloody hell – not good, not good at all,' he said in a hysterical voice, wringing his hands in his lap. 'Alright, I figure that you three know that these are mine – even though I have no idea how they came to be here – and that I am acting this way because I have lost one, right?'

Alfred, Matthew and Francis made noises of agreement and Arthur went on.

'It's just that... the one that's missing, it's quite hard to make and if it's taken in large doses, it can be hard to cure.'

'Your point, England?' Alfred interrupted loudly which earned him a glare from Arthur.

'My point is that if we don't find it in time, let's just say bad things can happen.'

_Is it really that bad? _Matthew thought fearfully, gazing at Arthur.

'What's it called, Angleterre?' Francis asked and Matthew detected a bit of anxiety in his tone.

'It's called –'

'The Draught of Living Death?'

Jumping in fright at the sudden interruption, Matthew swiveled in his spot and saw Ludwig standing awkwardly behind the group. He was looking worse for wear: there were large bags under his ice-blue eyes and his face was stuck in an expression of misery; his blonde hair – which was usually slicked back in perfection – was sticking out in every direction imaginable, his bangs covering his eyes; his uniform was all crinkled, something that was very unusual about the German nation for everything had to be spick and span, and by the book in his eyes. Overall, he looked rotten.

After getting over the initial shock of Ludwig's sudden appearance, Francis let out a hiss like an angry goose.

'Now you wake up, you stupid man!' he said, rather harshly, which made Ludwig flinch. 'I try to wake you up to tell you that your brother is dying and what do you do? Continue sleeping!'

Ludwig looked ashamed of himself but then it changed into a look of worry.

'Prussia? Dying?' he said faintly and his eyes rested on Gilbert's body. 'Mein Gott – is he –

'He'll be alright,' Arthur ensured, his hand over his heart. 'Just give him a few minutes – then we can lecture him on drinking foreign articles. Speaking of my potions – how did you know the name of the one I was about to tell?'

Matthew glanced at Ludwig, the need of knowledge growing stronger in his chest. Ludwig said nothing and his gaze turned from his brother to the floor. He put a hand into his pocket and pulled out a bottle.

It was a small one, with what Matthew could make out as yet another label reading _Draught of Living Death_ in again the cursive handwriting. There was only one problem and it made Matthew's heart skip a beat in terror, Arthur's previous words replaying in his mind:_'...it's quite hard to make and if it's taken in large doses, it can be hard to cure...'_

Staring at the flagon in Ludwig's hand made the bottom of Matthew's stomach drop.

The bottle was empty.

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**A/N: And now I leave you in suspense. Don't hate me!**

**Also, I want to let you guys know that ****_no one _****is going to die in this story. Never you fear. **

**Reviews are very much appreciated 3**

**Goodbye for now!**


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: OMG HI. I AM SO SORRY FOR NOT UPLOADING THIS SOONER ARGH. PLEASE DON'T HURT MEEEEEEE D':**

But in all seriousness, I do apologise for the late update. Honestly, the school work I have been receiving is insane. I dread to think about senior school if this is what I am getting now *shudders*

If anyone knows the Doctor or is really close to him, GET HIM TO SAVE ME AND PUT ME BACK IN YEAR 9 D:

Anyway, I am going to be clear here and say that the next chapter is not going to be here for a LONG time. Why? Because it's Term 2, Week 3 and I already have three Half-Yearly exams, three assignments and on top of all that, I have got to read To Kill A Mockingbird and Wuthering Heights for English, questions on each chapter to answer as well - plus an essay. I am not joking D: This is my life at the moment and I am missing my laptop already... *cries*

Anyway, I say goodbye for now and I leave you with this poorly written chapter. I hope to see you guys soon.

ENJOY.  
AND ARRIVEDERCI

**Disclaimer: Hetalia, Harry Potter and HetaOni are NOT mine. If they were, many things would not have happened. End of story.**

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His entire body ached and he had trouble breathing; he had been fighting this creature for hours on end and he was only still going due to the adrenaline rushing through his veins. Enough was enough. He was worried sick about his fellow nations that were stuck inside the mansion that his chest hurt with suppressed emotion. _I could do with a piano now to play out my feelings,_ he thought bitterly.

Clutching the tree branch he had found earlier tightly in his hand, Roderich slid under the monster's feet and stabbed it pitifully in the back. This gesture did nothing but make the monster more irritated.

'Um… Korea?' he yelped, ducking out of harm's way as the Thing swiped a clawed arm at him yet again. 'Now would be a good time for you to kill this creature!'

'_I am a bit busy with this one, da ze!_' Yong Soo called back, slicing through the air with his sword, where it landed in the stomach of the monster he was fighting.

Roderich huffed in annoyance and turned to face his own opponent, only to be thrown backwards as it knocked him square on the chest. He went flying through the air and hit the grass with a painful _thud_.

'Austria!'

Groaning in discomfort, Roderich turned over onto his back and saw, to his horror, the Thing's face right up to his own. He didn't have the time to scream before it picked him up from the ground and held him securely in its grip.

'No! Austria! _Austria!_' Yong Soo shouted in disarray, dodging the monster's attack towards his feet and swinging the sword in defence.

The monster squeezed and Roderich felt his lungs contract. He was losing his breath and it was becoming harder to inhale. His arms were pinned to his sides, so he could do nothing to try and free himself: he was stuck – and dying. There were fireworks in his vision and the roars of the monster in his ears. _I never thought this is how I would die._

Suddenly, there was a thunderous battle cry and the sound of several bullets being shot out of a gun. Roderich unexpectedly felt cool, sweet air pass through his lips as the creature released him. Little did he know that the monster had actually thrown him from twelve feet – that is, until he hit something and rolled with, losing his spectacles in the process.

'Ouch…' he moaned as he came to a sudden halt. He was lying on something that was rather soft – and moving.

'Do you mind getting off me, you idiot?'

Lifting his head up, Roderich saw a familiar flash of blonde hair but he couldn't make out who it was for his vision was too blurry. He groped the area around him, searching for his glasses in the long grass.

'Looking for these?'

Roderich felt his specs being pushed into his hands and, putting them back on quickly, paused as he realised who he had been thrown into.

'Hey! You guys okay? – argh!' Yong Soo hollered at them, rushing up to where they lay, trying his hardest not to be hit by the creature's flailing limbs.

'Look, can you please get the _hell_ off me?'

Blushing furiously, Roderich removed himself from his former friend, whom he had been lying on top of.

'Sorry, Switzerland,' he mumbled, getting to his feet and putting out a polite hand to help the other nation. He took it reluctantly and muttered a 'Thanks,' before picking up his gun and aiming it at the monster that was coming their way.

'I _told_ you we should've gone the other way, da ze!' Yong Soo growled, stopping next to the pair with his hands on his knees and breathing heavily through his mouth. 'But did you listen to me? No, you did not and now look at what we have to deal with!'

Roderich ignored him and kept his violet gaze on the towering monstrosity in front of them: its claws were sharp as blades and longer than the three nations put together; its shining bald head was covered in bloody stains, both of its opponents and its own; the dark, blank eyes were filled with a murderous rage and the sneering curve of its mouth made Roderich shiver unpleasantly.

It gave a booming roar and made its way towards the trio, its arms outstretched. Before Roderich could react, Basch began to rapidly fire his gun at its head, giving off a yell. Yong Soo had his sword held firmly in his grasp as he turned his back to the creature in front of Roderich and Basch and faced the one that had crept up behind them. Roderich tried to slip away, to let the ones who knew what they were doing have some more space but he was sandwiched between both the Swiss and Korean men.

The air was filled with shouts, wails and screams, along with gunshots and swishes of blades. Roderich ducked as the monster Yong Soo was fighting slashed a taloned hand at them and jumped back up again as the creature Basch was battling swung its tail, seeking to trip them over.

The combat lasted for what to Roderich felt like hours but soon, the grotesque beings vanished with a cry, leaving behind three panting men. Basch and Yong Soo dropped their weapons without another thought, falling to their knees in exhaustion. Roderich stayed standing, his mind wandering to the others: _where have they gone?_

He was concerned: he hadn't heard from them, seen hair nor hide of them since they first entered the gates of the grounds – since he made that phone call to Feliciano. Not only that but the gardens, the lush surroundings, seemed to be alive. Roderich was certain that the land around them shifted, misleading them all into thinking they were going the right way when really, they were going straight towards their deaths.

'Some help you were,' Basch murmured into the silence, glaring up at Roderich. The Austrian man was highly peeved and he retorted heatedly, 'Well, I tried to do my bit, but some people were making it very difficult for me to do anything but defend!'

'Oh? Is that so?' Basch challenged, getting quickly to his feet, his face so close to Roderich's own that their noses were almost touching. 'Why are you even here? All you have done is gotten us lost, separated us from the others and each time you _think_ you know where you're going, we end up fighting for our lives!'

'_I am here for family!_' Roderich shrieked, taking hold of the lapels of Basch's jacket forcefully, much to his and the Swiss man's surprise. For as long as he could remember, Roderich had never gotten physical with anyone unless he had to – not even when Gilbert was being exceedingly presumptuous. 'I am here for the boy that I raised, for his brother and for my own closer family. Germany and Prussia may not be my flesh and blood, but I still consider them a part of my life – however annoying or inconvenient they may be!'

Roderich breathed deeply through his nose, his grasp tightening on Basch's green coat as his stare got fiercer, his eyes flashing dangerously.

'I am also here for those who I grew up with, whether it had been through blood and war or God knows what else. Enemies, allies, kin – and I am not ashamed to say that within those people… is you.'

He let go of Basch severely and stalked off, feeling angrier than he had ever been before in his life. _Why can't he understand that I still see him as friend, even after all these years of hatred?_ Chuckling bitterly to himself, Roderich rounded a corner, missing the yelps of the other two until there was a shout of horror.

Running back to the scene, Roderich's first thought was that Yong Soo had tackled the Swiss to the ground but upon closer inspection, he realised that the Korean was pulling Basch away from something – something that was advancing on them both.

Without another moment's delay, Roderich hurried to Yong Soo's side and grabbed one of Basch's arms as his violet orbs took in the sight. A thick, forest green vine had coiled itself securely around one of Basch's ankles and was attempting to drag him off somewhere; its end was slowly disappearing within a hole that had formed in the ground, amidst a circle of looming trees. Roderich and Yong Soo tugged and heaved while Basch kicked at the rope-like enemy.

Then, out of the blue, the three fell to the earth in a heap as another, very similar creeper wrapped itself around Basch's other ankle and yanked roughly. Before the two ivies could tow them to the pit, Roderich clumsily got up and dug his heels into the soil whilst Yong Soo extracted his sword and hacked at the natural ropes.

His limbs were screaming at him, his muscles burning as he held onto the Swiss man for dear life. Yong Soo repeatedly swung his sword, having no luck in getting rid of them. The animated plants seemed immune to the blade and Roderich got very irritated at the thought.

'Mein Gott, can't you sharpen that damn thing?' he snarled, his face scrunched up in effort of keeping Basch away from the pit of Hell. Yong Soo sent him an enraged look, brandishing his sword at the Austrian.

'Do you honestly think that I battle with blunt weaponry, da ze?' he snapped, once again trying to free Basch with a newfound rage.

None of them noticed the horror that was coming their way.

'Hey, Austria,' Basch started, hesitating slightly as he looked up at Roderich. He raised a fine eyebrow but listened to what Basch had to say. 'I know we've never been the best of friends, even when we were young but… I've always held some respect for you – just saying.'

A dumbfounded expression surpassed the shocked feelings that went through Roderich. Unable to believe his ears, he stared at Basch, momentarily surprised at his sudden proclamation. The Swiss turned away from Roderich's calculating gaze, a flush of red going across his cheeks. _It must be the situation we are in,_ Roderich told himself, gripping Basch tighter, still bewildered. _He's stressed and he's saying things he doesn't mean. Yeah, that'll be it._

'AUSTRIA!'

The world around Roderich was lifted off his feet and he fell forwards as something slithered around his booted leg, tripping him. His hold on Basch slipped and Roderich was being dragged across the lawn, dirt and pebbles flying through the air. A frightened yell ripped from his throat and dreaded thoughts swam in his head.

Further and further he went, the gap between him and his comrades becoming larger by the second. Roderich tried to grab anything to help him stop or at least slow down: blades of grass, rocks, small plants, but his efforts remained fruitless.

Suddenly, everything stopped and a sharp pain went shooting upwards to Roderich's hips. Looking back, he saw that he was wedged between two, thick tree roots and the creepers were struggling to get him to their destination. He let out a strangled laugh of relief, wiping his face free of muck.

A pair of hands seized him and pulled; Roderich was startled to see Yong Soo above him, his face contorted with concentration and Basch nowhere in sight.

'What are you doing? Where is Switzerland?' he demanded, fear etched onto his face. Yong Soo hesitated, ceasing tugging for a moment.

'As soon as you let go, Switzerland got hauled and – well…' he trailed off uncomfortably and the bottom of Roderich's stomach dropped. He didn't need Yong Soo to continue in order to understand: Basch was gone, never to be seen again and he knew that he was destined for the same fate. He thought of Elizabeta and the others – had that happened to them as well?

'Listen Korea,' he told him after several moments of silence. 'Cut the roots. Leave me and go and find the others. Get them out of here – do whatever you have to do.'

'I am not leaving you here!' Yong Soo exclaimed, appalled and to show his seriousness, he clutched Roderich fiercely. 'Do you honestly think I will let you go forth with this insane plan, da ze? After what has just happened to Switzerland?'

'I am finished,' Roderich said harshly, fixing his stare on Yong Soo. 'There is nothing you can do. Now go before you're finished too. I will take no objections.'

Yong Soo let go slowly, a solemn expression on his face. He gave Roderich a small salute, whispering, 'Whatever God you believe in Austria, may they be with you.'

With that, he took his sword and raised it high, his hands shaking. Before he brought it down, Roderich quickly told him, 'Korea! Once you find the others, tell Hungary I'm sorry. She'll understand.'

The Korean nodded his head, his movements rigid and he brought the weapon hurling downwards. He yelled as the sword cut the wood into two, sobbing as Roderich once again was lugged towards the hole of terror.

The last thing he heard was a shriek of apology from Yong Soo before everything went black as he fell down, down, down...

**oOo**

Groaning loudly, Roderich opened his eyes blearily, the first thing he saw being a large crack in the lens of his glasses. He didn't bother to move as his entire body was aching with agony, his cheek pressed against the hard surface. _Is this heaven?_ He pondered, taking in a deep breath. He froze as the familiar scent of musk hit his nose. Forgetting about his pain, Roderich got to his feet, his orbs wide, alert.

An ominous atmosphere formed around him, from the faint whistling of a wind to the creaks and squeaks of doors and floorboards. The walls around him were made of stone, the ground beneath him strewn with bits of dirt and leaves. A square of light was coming from an opening above him and a pool of burnt rope lay at his feet.

Thoroughly confused, Roderich made his around the corner and he was greeted with the same construction as the one behind him; the only difference was a bare minimum of brightness and Roderich had to squint in the darkness. He continued to walk, still unable to believe that he was alive and kicking. _So much for sacrifice,_ he thought sullenly as he came across a peeling door, already ajar.

And so it went for hours: Roderich opened hundreds of doors, stalked down endless corridors and ran up thousands of stairs until he finally, out of breath and energy, ended up in a hallway flooded with rays of sunshine. Grateful, he moved towards a window, noticing immediately that it was barred with long lengths of iron.

Pausing, Roderich's mind whirled, each thought more crazy than the last. _There is no way I could possibly be there,_ he told himself as he cautiously peeked out the pane of glass. As soon as his gaze took in the outside, his hands flew to his mouth in horror. Shaking his head, he ran down the deserted area, reaching the entrance in seconds.

He took the doorknob in both hands and turned it this way and that, praying to any superior being that what was happening was all a dream. Not once did it click and Roderich slid down after countless attempts, his head in hands.

He was trapped inside the mansion with everyone else. No one was safe. No one could escape the clutches of the beings. No one was getting out alive.

And now he was another pawn in the game, ready to be tampered with.

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**A/N: Can I just say before I go: thank you to each person who bothered to leave a review. I love you guys so much! Seriously, I was not expecting this kind of feedback. Really - thank you.**


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